


Again and Again

by LilithsLullaby



Series: The Masks We Wear [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood Kink, Desk Sex, F/M, Hair-pulling, Literal porn, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Self-Insert, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithsLullaby/pseuds/LilithsLullaby
Summary: “You will always kneel”Perhaps Loki is as cruel as you’ve been told. But when he escapes captivity, he has dark plans for you. Plans a certain scepter will help to facilitate.-Takes place as an AU timeline to Chapter 1 of “A Righteous Disguise”-





	Again and Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shatiel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatiel86/gifts), [JustAnotherMarvelGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherMarvelGirl/gifts).



> Requested by a few individuals (particularly Shatiel86 and JustAnotherMarvelGirl, two readers who have been faithful to my works since day one!) who wanted to see Loki’s subjugation scene from “Avengers” but with our lovely heroine at Loki’s mercy. Though, I put a bit of a twist on that request, with this scene taking place during Chapter 1 instead, where Loki is older (Post-Ragnorak style as my readers may already know is my guilty preference... oh that dark suit. My weakness!). The gif I’ve included provided a bit of inspiration as you’ll see ;) Enjoy!

The call comes through your radio just as you are walking out of the office, your car keys digging into the tender flesh of your palm. You’d been dreaming of lounging lazily on your couch with Chinese takeout balanced carefully in your lap. You can practically taste the chop suey...But instead of fulfilling those dreams of lethargy, you grunt, and turn back toward the office. You pivot around so swiftly your head spins in the opposite direction. It makes the run back toward the holding cells a bit of a nightmare. You’ve been light headed ever since your initial encounter with the God of Mischief. When his gaze burrowed under your skin as if he knew all your secrets. As if he were the lie detector, rather than yourself. But you’d learned enough about Loki to know he was a talented manipulator. A seducer of the mind... and perhaps the body as well, judging by the way your heart palpitated in reaction to his stare. Perhaps now, you are just being weakened by the draw of his influence, twisting your mind in such a way that leaves your knees weak beneath you. That’s all it is... right? 

“The prisoner has escaped,” the radio screams. “I repeat, the prisoner has escaped!”

“I should have turned this damned thing off hours ago...” you mutter, switching the volume to mute. Ignorance would have been a nice card to play. But it also could have gotten you fired. Despite your relationship with Tony Stark, you don’t feel like risking the certainty of your next paycheck. 

You stumble down the stairs, your hand gripped to the railing. Ahead of you is a small crowd, examining the crime scene with equal dismay. The cell door has been thrown open to the side, torn straight off from the hinges. And it’s prisoner no longer held inside the battered remains of the cell. Just the sad remains of a meal left untouched lying in the corner and the flimsy metal cot, broken in half.

“What happened?” You ask, dumbly as you approach Tony, who is standing in front of the open cell with his hand held over his mouth in deep contemplation. He turns to regard you briefly, before returning his gaze back upon the cell. 

“He got to Banner,” he mutters. “Damn weasel got to Banner.”

Your eyes widen. There was only one way he could have coerced the Hulk from the confines of Bruce’s mental blocks. But you don’t want to think of the possibility. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t...

 “Do we have any idea where he could be now?”

Tony turns to look at you again, taking a long breath before speaking. He puffs his chest out, back straight. He always refuses to look vulnerable in front of you. As if you may think less of him for reacting in a way that was... well, human. 

“There’s no telling. But Cap and Thor are on a man hunt around the city,” he explains. “And I’ve been advised that you and I are to stay here in case he returns.”

“You and I?” You gape with wide eyes. “Why me? Tony, a soothsayer isn’t going to be much help against him if we can already put two and two together...”

“You know why,” he replies, his eyes holding a soft sympathy. “He has the scepter.”

Your eyes widen even further, your hands trembling against your sides. You remember being subjected to a myriad of experiments, to test the limits of Loki’s former scepter in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s labs. A tool from his failed conquest of New York. A weapon of unparalleled mind control. The tests had originally been toted as a sort of initiation rite into S.H.I.E.L.D. But truly, you’d come to realize it was done because Fury was convinced your power held the key to harnessing its potential. Truth, he believed, was the ultimate defense against mind control.

And he had been right, of course. You were tortured for hours, forced to fight the crawling influence of the scepter, the ethereal glow plummeting into your veins and sweeping out the original source of your survival, replacing it with its own twisted elixir. But finally, when you were on the brink of giving in, on surrendering to subjugation, you managed to harness enough of your ability to untether yourself from its control. To break the bounds wound tight around your heart, pumping in resistance. You gasped a sort of scream, shoving hard against the scepter and retching on the floor just infront of Fury’s feet.

“Are you happy?” You shouted, wiping the vile from your lips as you glared up at the half-blind man.

“Very.”

You earned yourself a hefty pay raise in the process.  

“I just... I need to grab some supplies from my desk if we are meant to be here all night,” you stutter in response to Tony, fear creeping in over your bones. You aren’t confident enough in your ability to resist the scepter. Or it’s handler. Not again. 

Tony nods, watching as you leave. Your knees tremble, inhibiting your graceful descent toward the elevator. You press a button and watch the illuminated numbers increase at a painfully slow rate. The gnawing grip of claustrophobia restricting all other reason. You clutch at your chest, your heart racing, your breath caught somewhere in the middle of your throat, unable to find release. The thought of facing the deranged, jolted prince of Asgard unearthed a feeling within you long thought forgotten. 

Fear mingled and mated to lust.

You can recall the way he looked at you then, when they pulled him into his holding cell. His gaze brimming with desire. The desire to harm, perhaps.  Though, in that moment, it had felt an awful lot like a growing, insatiable hunger. The desire to consume you whole. Something that you felt reflected inside of yourself. 

You shake your head, pressing your fingers firmly against your temples. But his emerald eyes remain, implanted against the grain of your memory, burrowing into your soul. Those eyes sing for you to comply, to satisfy your own need to taste those sinful lips. To watch him unravel. To make him come undone beneath the guidance of your hand. 

When the elevator finally arrives at your office floor, the doors sliding open, you keep your head low and step outside. A hand latches over your mouth, yanking you to the side as the door slides shut behind you. Your scream is muffled under the force of their hold against your lips. Their palm is ice cold, unnaturally so for anyone who might be human. But they aren’t, are they...A shiver runs down your spine, now pressed into your assailant.

“Stay quiet, dear,” his voice purrs against your ear, his lips grazing your skin. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I will if I must.”

_Loki_. 

In the corner of your eye, you see the faint pulsating glow of his scepter, the unearthly blue that urges the bile, churning in your stomach, to creep up into your mouth. Your skin becomes prickled by the cold chill of fear rippling up your arms. He pulls you backward, his hand gripped onto your hip. You fumble, your feet forgetting how to walk, the world tilting. Regardless, you struggle, forcing him to practically drag you into his chosen hideaway. An unmarked open office nearby. 

The door snaps shut just barely in front of your nose. An eerie quiet fills the room as he steps away from behind you, his hand falling away from your mouth. You gasp, having been holding your breath up until this point. He circles you, like a predator would his prey. His eyes shimmer like stolen gems against the amber glow of the setting sun behind you, streaming in through the large panes of glass. His irises seem to swirl, cast in that soft, seductive light as he leans against the scepter for support. 

“My... well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” he hums, rising his fingers to his parted mouth, his thumb just barely resting against his bottom lip. “I was hoping I’d find you, kitten... but I never thought I’d be so lucky.”

You take a step back cautiously as he approaches you. The chill of his body seeping into your veins, rendering you weak to any and all of his advances.

“What do you want, Loki?” You growl. You clutch your hands into fists at your sides, to seem intimidating, perhaps. But truly, just to calm the quivering of your limbs. 

“Oh, I do love the sound of my name on your tongue,” he says with a growing smirk. “Say it again.”

You glare, shaking your head and pressing your lips together, allowing no sound to emit between them. A rush of anguish floods into those emerald ores in response. For having been denied. For taking a captive who was more of a brat than the perfect submissive he had anticipated you being. 

“Say my name!” He snaps, his hand extending toward your neck, to strangle, to choke, to mangle. But you don’t give him the opportunity to touch you, jerking your body away with the swift turn of your torso, reaching out for the door. However, you are stopped by the tip of his scepter, which falls ahead of your hand against the door knob.

“Not so fast, pet,” he scolds. “We aren’t done here.”

He spins you around by the arm, pinning you in against the door, wrist held above your head. His scepter traces slow, tentative lines down along the secured buttons of your blouse. Your free hand reaches out, pressing hard against his chest where you can feel his heart racing beneath your palm. Like the beating of a war drum, charging toward impending battle.

_Is this exciting you? Or am I making you nervous?_

You blush, your lips trembling over the prospect that you might be affecting the cruel God in such an unexpected way. By your mere presence before him. But those childish thoughts are cast to the wayside as soon as he speaks again. 

“If you aren’t going to behave, you’ll need to be disciplined.”

The curved metallic end hooks into the fabric of your blouse, pulling it forward until the first button snaps free. The small plastic bead bounces and slides across the floor. You gasp as you attempt to reach up to clutch at the loosened fabric, just barely exposing your sheer lace bra beneath. An article of clothing not truly meant for comfort but rather, for arousal. A satisfactory growl escapes from his throat as he pushes your hand away, allowing himself the full unobstructed view of your lingerie. He delicately caresses the swell of your breasts, your nipples just barely hidden beneath the darted lines of its structure. His gaze holds onto the intimate curve of your womanhood, bellowing out from the restrictive hold of the bra. 

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion,” he purrs, a finger tracing down along those stiff lines. “Were you anticipating getting fucked tonight? Such a dirty slut...”

You suck in air between your teeth as he leans into you. He is so close you can feel his warm breath cascading down your neck. You shiver and bite your lip to stifle a whimper that crawls up your throat from the mere sensation. And how regrettably good it feels to have his hand pressed into your arm. To feel his cool, seductive touch. 

“The minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you,” he hums, breathing you in, his lips just barely above the pulse point on your neck. You let that whimper escape your parted lips, turning away. Your whole body resists him, just as strongly as you crave him. 

You want him. But you shouldn’t. You can’t. You know you should hate him with every fabric of your being. But being close to him like this, alone, you know with regrettable certainty that you want his hands to trail over every sweet inch of your body. For his tongue to follow the path his fingers would leave beyond. His legendary silver tongue...You could only imagine the mastery of that tongue, and the sort of chaos it could create on certain parts of your body. 

Though the thought alone makes you cringe in surrender. How could you want this man? Who was a claimed mass murderer. A villain beyond all definition.  

He shouldn’t... he couldn’t be your lover. 

But being here with him is keeping him in Stark Tower. Keeping him from doing any potential harm to anyone else. If you can distract him long enough, Tony might start to wonder what’s taking you so long and come to find you. To find him. So you take a deep breath, letting your lungs expand enough to press your chest out towards him. And against his hold, you press your palms flat against the door. Giving him full reign of your body. And unadulterated access to your beating heart. 

 “What would you do if I fucked you right here?” He whispers, leaving you wide eyed and breathless. “Would you tell me no? Would you resist me every step of the way?”

 His hand slides under the lace of your bra, finding your perked nipple beneath. You shutter in reaction. He rubs his fingers against you, until you arch your back, your chest held out in encouragement.

“Or would you love every minute of it, like the whore that you are?”

You shake your head violently. “Please, Loki...” is all you manage to vocalize before your voice morphs into an octave of moans, his fingers pinching down onto your bundle of nerves atop your breast. “Stop!”

He pulls away, his eyes heavy with consideration as he briefly regards you, heel to nose. The scepter hovers over your ribcage, ready to inflict the full force of his power. 

“You’re shaking, pet,” he notes, his voice is low, wounded. “You think me a monster, don’t you?” 

You open your mouth to speak but before you can reply, before you can feel the cruel metal burrow it’s claws into your chest, he swipes the scepter up. The sharpened tip scraps the thin flesh of your neck along its path. You hiss as you feel the warm trickle of blood drawn from the cut running down your bare cleavage. Without a word, he leans in, to lick you clean with the slow draw of his tongue up your neck. A soft moan escapes from your parted lips, trembling under the erotic sensation of the cruel God licking your wound, inflicted by his hand. 

He growls into your flesh, suckling at the tender, gashed skin. Once your neck feels utterly raw, stinging under the force of his tongue, he pulls away, holding your gaze to his with the rough grasp of his hand against your jaw. You can see the rich crimson shimmer of your blood still held against his lips. He licks them slowly clean as he locks his gaze upon your mouth. 

“I will ruin you,” he murmurs, smirking devilishly. “Whether you want me or not. I will take your sweet cunt. With my fingers, with my mouth...with my cock. Until you beg for me to stop. To have mercy.”

You squirm against his hold, muttering protests that go unheard. But you are forced to press your thighs together, needing any sort of pressure against your throbbing sex, already sleek with forbidden arousal. 

_If he were to kiss me now, I’d lose all common sense. I’d be slave to my own sinful desires to be owned. To be in the possession of a man without reason or control. A force of nature as wild as a storm brewing just beyond the crest of the horizon. A storm I yearn to endure._

“Or perhaps, you won’t complain at all, like a good little slut.”

He distracts you with the force of a sudden and unexpected kiss. You squirm and pull against him, but as his tongue shoves into your mouth, you know your act of resistance will not last long. He tastes like liquid sin and his aroma encapsulates you; salty musk like ocean waves crashing into the rich earth of an evergreen forest. Earth and sea. Heaven and hell. All melding into one sinful pheromone that lures you in like a Siren’s song.  

And just as you give into his kiss, moaning into his mouth as your tongues begin to dance, he pulls away, laughing. The scepter comes down against your chest, just above your heart. The tip spears your flesh ever so slightly. You cry out from the force of its influence assaulting your senses. The cold, cruel power seeping into your veins, threatening to drown out all other reason, all of your free will. Until you become nothing but his slave, weak to his every desire. You need to fight against it. You need to resist. So you do, with everything you have. With everything you are. You push back, using your own, untapped ability to force the scepter’s power out from your chest. The effort is enough to make you nauseous, to bring you close to retching like the first time you were triumphant. But finally, when you are near black out, you sense the scepter’s power retreating back into the curved vessel held in Loki’s grasp. But you clench your eyes shut, determined to convenience Loki of its effectiveness. To lure him into your trap and hopefully, deliver him back into the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D. before completely compromising your integrity.

“Well?” His hand pulls away, leaving you completely unrestrained against the door. All of his trust laid upon his new, obedient creature. “What is it you desire, pet? Above all else. Tell me. Be sweet.”

He stands back, waiting for your response. You hesitate at first. But then, swallow hard, forcing down your fear. This has to be your role to play. To placate the God of Mischief. To distract him long enough for Tony to come valiantly to your rescue, like the faux father that he is. But instead of speaking your answer, you let your body do the talking. You remove your blouse, button by button, until the stiff fabric slides off your arms. 

His smile widens, his gaze locked onto your chest. That hunger you saw once before returning in full force. But as you stand there, shaking, his smile quickly fades. 

“And the rest,” he orders, his voice stern and unrelenting.

“All of it?” You stutter, pressing your back flesh against the door. As if you meant to melt into it. 

“All of it.” His grin returns, dripping with mischief, his eyes shimmering with promise as they curve over every exposed bit of skin. The more savory bits still covered by clothing. The last remnants of your decency.

If you deny his command, your act will be uncovered. So you resolve to comply, to follow his lead as far as your good sense would allow. You reach back, your trembling fingers hooking under the strap of your bra, unclasping it with expertise. You let it slide away, leaving your breasts completely bare before him. Perked and in need of the return of his affection. 

He hums in approval, reaching out to brush his fingertips across your exposed nipples. It makes you whimper as they immediately harden beneath his touch. 

“And the skirt,” he says, gaze low. “Your body belongs to me now. Would be a shame to have it all covered up like this. Besides...I’d rather there not be anything between us.”

And again, you follow his order like an obedient soldier, sliding the pencil skirt down over your ass, your panties along with it. You realize, as the material gathers around your ankles, discarded, that the fabric is sleek with the sheen of your arousal, growing by the minute. 

The more he touches you, the more his eyes reflect his lust for your body, laid out before him like a feast. The more you don’t want him to stop. The more your body craves release by his hand, by his mouth, by his cock. As promised.

“Perfect,” he growls. “Beautiful.” His fingers pinch down onto you, pulling a whine from your lips. A response that makes him laugh in delight. 

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, his voice surprisingly gentle as he twists your nipple between his clamped fingers. A contrast to his cruel intentions. 

“You, Loki,” you coo, in pure fabricated compliance. “I belong to you.”

“Yes, you do,” he purrs, each syllable elongated over his tongue. His lips pull up unnaturally into a brilliant smile, his hands falling away, down the center of your stomach. “Such a good girl.” 

His fingers settle just above your mound. He sets the scepter aside so he can use both of his hands on initiating your ruin. Your heart is racing with anticipation as he pulls you forward by your hips, until you are pressed up against him. 

“Are you wet for me, pet?” He whispers as his fingers dance just around your entrance, teasing you until you squirm and, regrettably, thrust toward his hand. “Were you already dripping the moment I pulled you from the elevator?”

You nod, knowing it’s the truth. Hearing the sweet song of clarity echo through your veins. Screaming that you want his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your sex. That you want his lips pressed against your neck. You want everything he has to offer.

“Or was it when our first eyes met?” He asks, his voice a sweet seduction. “Were you as desperate for me then as I was for you?”

His finger dips inside, pushing up to his second knuckle. But as soon as you moan in gratification, pressing your thighs together with a small ounce of resistance, he curls the slender digit inside of you, shoving further so he can rub up against your pleasure spot.

“Oh, you are dripping, pet,” he groans in satisfaction. “So weak to your desires. So driven by your primal needs. To be owned. To be dominated by cock. And all of it... just for me. All of you.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan, your legs falling apart. But he pulls away, only the small tip of his finger remaining inside. It forces you to thrust forward against the palm of his hand, rolling your hips to satisfy the itch. 

“There you go,” he purrs. “That’s it. Fuck my fingers the way you need.”

You reach up, clinging to his shoulders as you do. Thrusting forward until your clit rubs against the mound of his palm. He groans happily and rewards your obedience with a second finger inside of your tight cunt. You can hear the sounds of your growing desire slosh against his hand with every desperate movement forward. He leans down, until his lips graze your ear.

“Do you want to cum?” He whispers, his voice alone pulling you toward the edge of release. “Do you want to cum all over my hand, dirty mortal?”

You nod, your lips resting against his neck as he pulls you closer. You can taste the thin sheen of salty sweat that coats his skin. 

“Or would you prefer my mouth?” He licks your ear lobe. Again you nod enthusiastically, imagining his tongue sliding into your cunt.

“You need to say it, pet.” He nibbles on your ear, leaving you weak, nails digging into his shoulders. “I do love the sound of your voice.”

“I want to cum,” you whisper in defeat, a deep crimson swept over your cheeks. “Make me cum, Loki.”

He laughs lightly and sucks on your neck, marking you, maiming you with a sinful whimper. 

“No, not quite. Good girls have to ask nicely.”

He starts to pound into you with his fingers. In and out. Until your knees begin to tremble against his hand. You bite down into his shoulder as you scream his name in pure defeat, riding the edge of your orgasm, so near your grasp.

“Ask. Nicely,” he snarls, clamping down harder.

“Please, Loki... please, make me cum. I want you to... I need you to.” His fingers rub harder into your pleasure spot, making you scream. “I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?”

“Yes! Please!”

You can feel his lips pull up into a grin against the curve of your neck, just before he yanks his fingers from you so swiftly you jerk forward with a gasp. He lifts his fingers up so you can see, sticky strings of your sweet nectar caught between them as he spreads them out wide. He glides his tongue through the clear ropes, moaning as your flavor lands on his taste buds.  

“Just a taste... of what’s to come,” he purrs, radiating with potential chaos. 

He steps back to study you, your gaze wide and pleading. The way your legs shake, vibrating with the lingering residuals of an orgasm denied. You can feel your wetness dripping down your thighs, your core throbbing, clit swollen. You need to touch yourself, you need just an ounce of pressure to push yourself over edge. You need to...

“Kneel,” He snaps, pulling his fingers from his lips. “And wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock.”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes wide. Your hesitation takes a moment too long. He grasps a fistful of the hair atop your head, yanking you forward. 

“Kneel!”

You fumble onto your knees in front of him with a yelp, your hands pressed to either side of his thighs for balance. Your nose presses in just above his groin. You can smell him, the need of his arousal. The musk of his desire: a mix of sweat and cum just begging for release against the tip of his sex. It shouldn’t arouse you. It should disgust you to be subjected to the base, primal needs of a man as cruel as Loki. But you can feel your pussy throb as you breathe him in, licking your lips involuntarily. You want a taste of his sinful promises

His hand remains gripped to your skull, whilst the other scoops down under your chin, urging you to gaze up at him. A frightened fawn trembling at the feet of a wolf. Begging for amnesty. 

“This is what you were made for,” he says, stroking your chin as he would a cat. “To humble yourself before a God. To give yourself up to the blissful freedom of being dominated. Subjugation... it’s what you crave. It’s what you need. Don’t deny it, pet. Give into it.”

His hand falls from your face and you gaze up at him with nervous anticipation. He reaches down, his fingers working with the zipper of his dark matching suit. But you bolt forward, your hands held over his. A deep growl escapes from his lips, anticipating your protest. His grip tightens around your hair. You whimper but persist. 

“Please...Allow me,” you whisper, gently stroking his hand, his fingers cool beneath the warmth of your touch. Finally, he surrenders, with an intrigued sort of tilt of his head. You unfasten his trousers with a fumbled expertise, sliding them slowly down his thighs. He steps out of them, foot by foot, your eyes held to the floor. But as his cock springs free, bouncing just in front of your lips, you turn up to stare at him. To study his offering. Long, and thick. And ornamented at the tip with a glistening bead of want, just begging to be licked clean. You swallow hard as you reach out to trace your fingertips up his length, raveling in the way he twitches in response to your light touch. How he releases a low growl and thrusts his hips forward to meet your caress. But you aren’t allowed much time to relish his weakened state as he shoves you hard against him, groaning the second your lips collide with his uncharacteristically warm sex.

“Suck. My. Cock,” he snarls between clenched teeth. His hand clasps under your chin, unhinging your jaw, until you are forced to open your mouth wide for him. “Be a good pet. Lest you want to be punished.”

He thrusts forward, filling your mouth with his cock. Your tongue slides over his length as you groan, unable to comfortably fit all of him in the way he desires. You try to relax your jaw, to rest your lips against him, knowing that he will force you to either way. And you hate to admit that he tastes divine, the nectar of the Gods lacing your taste buds, salty and raw. But as soon as you begin to relax, to meld into the idea of pleasuring him, his hand comes back against the base of your skull, urging you to move. He presses forward until you slide your lips down, over his bulging length, your tongue tracing the veins that decorate his sex. He hits the back of your throat, threatening to make you gag.  

He lets out a groan of pleasure, his grip tightening around your hair until you moan against his cock. You pull back with a pop, sliding your lips up and down over his cock. And when he is just barely inside your mouth, you swirl your tongue around his sensitive head until that groan deepens above you. His other hand reaches forward to stroke your cheek, with misplaced affection. 

“You are gifted, pet,” he purrs, the words littered with reluctant moans. “Truly gifted... fuck, yes just like that. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

You quicken your pace, your own desire building into a throbbing ache at the apex of your thighs. You bounce up and down atop your knees, imagining his cock between your legs. Sliding in and out. You reach a hand down, to smooth over the sleek of your want, to serve as a substitute for his stiff length. But he snatches your wrist, placing the scoop of your hand under his cock, to cradle against his balls. 

“Your pleasure will come when you deserve it,” he growls. 

He shoves himself further back into your throat until your moan becomes muffled against him. He throws back his head in satisfaction, murmuring sweet nothings. You can feel him throb against your tongue as you fondle and play with his balls, taut in your hands. You quicken your pace, in and out, tongue working along his slit tip. It drives you to near desperation, moaning against his sex. Needing him, wanting him, desiring the force of his hand. Your movements maximize that growing hunger, sucking harder, milking his cock. 

“And you are so deserving, pet,” he hums, biting his lip to stifle any additional moans of pleasure. To deprive you of the added compliment, though his words are enough to inflate your ego. You quicken your pace. “So marvelously deserving...” 

Both his hands rest gently to the either side of your face. You relax into his smooth caress when his hand clutches your jaw, keeping it unhinged as he stares down at you with cruel, malicious intent.

“You are going to take everything I give you,” he orders, his emeralds shimmering above you. “Every last drop... do you understand me?”

You nod, wide eyed, your lips still wrapped delicately around his cock. His hand grips firmly to the back of your skull, pressing hard so that his release comes out in hot spurts down your throat with a grunt. You struggle to resist the urge to gag, to pull away. His salty cum trails down your throat, and as you pull away, it is enough for him to lay a final, lingering droplet on your awaiting tongue. You gaze up at him for approval, your cum coated tongue laid out for him to witness. 

His eyes meet yours and immediately widen. As if he sees something in your stare, in your lust laden eyes, that truly shocks him. But that panic quickly fades, his lips curving into a pleasant grin that hints at a sort of happiness you’ve so rarely witnessed in the God of Lies.

“Good girl,” he moans, that smile growing. “Now swallow it.”

And you do. Gladly. Sighing the second you open your mouth, your breath carrying the same salty favor as his release. He continues to gaze down at you, lazily threading his fingers through your long strands of hair, no longer holding aggressively to your scalp. 

“Do you enjoy the taste of a God’s seed?” He asks in a murmur.

And you nod, licking your lips. 

“Yes, Loki.”

He purrs. “One more time, little one.”

“Yes, Loki. I love your cum,” you say with a genuine moan, his fingers brushing over your lips. He pushes his thumb past the opening of your mouth, letting you suck his finger briefly before pulling away. 

“Rise,” he orders. And you obey, without so much a single thought. You stand before him, legs crossed, hands held at your sides. Waiting for his next order, anticipating the sort of oblivion from which you’d never be able to return.  But craving it so adamantly you may explode without his delivered release. 

You are so far gone. Too far past recovery.

“Bend over. Palms pressed flat against the wall,” he commands, his eyes dancing down toward your dripping mound, dazzling with an insatiable lust.

You turn to face the wall, bending over as instructed. Once you are in position, you turn back slightly to look at him, receiving a disapproving scowl in return.

“Eyes forward, pet,” he snarls, a hiss released from between his lips.

You turn back around and stare at your fingers. A moment passes, and then another. No sound. Nothing. Just nervous anticipation as you rub your fingers up and down against the smooth grain of door in-front of you. Just the sound of your beating heart and heavy breathing to keep you company. You push out your ass, whining. 

“Loki...” 

No answer. 

“Loki, please, I...”

You wonder briefly, in a numbing panic, if he has found a way to escape. If he has slipped past your clutches whilst you so ignorantly played the role of his obedient slave. Drunk off his dominance. Drunk off his cock. And as you tilt your head to the side, against his guidance, his hand comes down hard against your bare ass with a slap. You reel forward, from pain and shock, gasping aloud. 

“Loki!”

“Naughty, naughty girl...” he says with the hints of mockery, laughter dancing along his silver tongue. “Thought you could take me for a fool, didn’t you? Thought you were the only one who could see past a lie.”

You gape at the wall, unwilling, unable to turn back around.

“I didn’t... I don’t...” You stutter, before he hits you again and your voice rises several octaves into a scream. 

“You were never under my control, were you?” He asks. Though it’s clear he already knows the answer. 

One more harsh slap lands against your rear before he rubs his hand in circles against your ass, beat raw and red from your punishment. His hand slides down between your legs, scooping over your wet mound, his fingers sliding through your soaked folds. You quiver in response, having been so desperate for his touch that the simple caress leaves you a trembling, incoherent mess. 

“And still you stripped yourself bare, to appease me,” he says. “To satisfy my kinks. You play the role of my pet very well, darling. Too well...You milked my cock like such an obedient little whore. And now...” 

His fingertips linger over your clit as he leans over your back, to kiss your neck, to whisper soft promises of release into your ear. 

“And now, you present your cunt to me like a bitch in heat,” he murmurs. “How could you not expect me to fuck this sweet pussy?”

“Loki...” His finger dips inside, taking your breath away. 

“Yes, my traitorous little slut?”

You grunt, pushing against his hand, your own hand balled up into a fist that beats against the door in frustration. 

“Please...” you shudder, rolling your hips. “Loki, I’m sorry, I...”

“All will be forgiven if you tell me you want me,” he says in a sigh. “Tell me you want my cock shoved into your tight pussy. And it will be yours. All yours...”

You bite your lip, unable to speak. But he wraps his arm around your neck, his cock positioned just right to rub back and forth against you as he thrusts between your legs from behind. You stare down to watch as he glides against you. His cock, already rock hard once again, is coated with the sheen of your wetness. You arch your back to rest against him, to feel his breath cascade over you. You curve your arm up to clutch into the back of his skull, to bury your fingers into his thick mane of raven hair. 

“I want... I need...” But you can’t bring yourself to say it. To admit to yourself how far into ruin you’ve descended in such a short amount of time. Was this the power of an Asgardian Prince, a forbidden, unworthy God?

“You want what? You need what? I can only assume so much without simply taking what it is I desire,” he growls in response. “And as much as the sounds of your screams only makes me harder... I want you to beg for me. To come undone against my cock. To shout my name in ecstasy rather than fear.” 

Your arm falls, to tangle in around his, your head tilted back to curve over his shoulder as you pull fully away from the wall. Your other hand reaches between your legs to help guide him inside, slowly, carefully. You muffle a groan as his tip slips past your clit. But you understand that there is a potential of pain at first, due to the considerable extent of his girth. You’ve never had a man as large as him before. Or as much of a gifted lover as him. So often past lovers have left you wanting, left you unsatisfied, staring up at your bedroom ceiling once they were done. But Loki... he seems to get off on your pleasure as much as his own. And that is enough to convince you to dive blindly, headfirst into this sinful unknown with him. Throwing caution to the wind, letting unbridled desire take the helm and steer. 

“Fuck me, Loki,” you beg in earnest, rolling your hips over his tip as he carefully slides inside. “Fuck me please...”

He laughs in amusement, kissing just behind your ear.

“Make it worth my while,” he answers, your earlobe caught between his teeth. He nibbles and pulls as you slide back against him, guiding more of his cock inside of your pussy. You gasp a moan, pausing to adjust. And he lets you, waiting patiently as he kisses the back of your neck, his hands resting against your hips. He has left all control in your hands, with the instruction to “make it worth his while.” 

_Damned, cocky bastard..._

Determined to break the Liar God, you grind into him, pushing his cock in and out of your dripping cunt. Your nails dig into his arm as each movement pulls a moan from your parted lips.

“Your cock feels so good!” You scream, unable to resist the pleasure of his sex. His grip tightens against your hips as him thrusts into you, pulling you harder, faster against him. 

“You are so damned tight,” he growls against your neck. “Wrapped so perfectly around my cock.”

Your ass bounces against him with each violent thrust, his hands kneading into your flesh before smacking down hard. With each smack, you can feel your pissy constrict against him. Tightening in response to the stinging pain of his hand. 

“Say my name, slut!” He snaps, a fistful of your hair pulls back by his hand. 

“Loki!” You comply. “My king! My Loki!”

“Your... what?” He chokes on the words, breathing deeply, as if you’ve truly caught him off guard. Whether it had been your declaration of his faux regency, or the intimacy of his name against your tongue, admitting to your new ownership... you couldn’t be sure. 

But either way, it is enough to weaken him.

He pulls out of you, slowly, your wetness slipping out and trickling down your thigh. He scoops you up into his arms, so unexpectedly that you yelp slightly and cling to him for support. Like a child would. 

“I’m truly going to ruin you now, pet,” he promises in a whisper. “And it’s all your fault.” 

Your eyes widen as he leans down to kiss your forehead gently. He sets you down atop a desk, littered with unfinished reports. Neither of you caring much about their contents, now stained with the evidence of your sex. You lift your legs to rest against his chest just as he leans down between them. He kisses a sweet, seductive trail up toward your glistening slit, where he lingers. He blows softly against you, causing you to arch your back and whimper. You reach out for him, to rest your hand against the top of his head, fingers coursed through his hair. Before you can even vocalize your desire, his tongue delivers your fantasy in one swift lick. Sliding along the line of your opening, up to your swollen clit. You grip onto the edge of the desk, to steady yourself as you push into his mouth. He swirls his tongue expertly through your folds, paying particular attention to your flushed bead, sensitive and needy. 

“You taste absolutely sinful, kitten,” he purrs, sucking on your lips. “Like honeyed wine. A wine crafted just for me. All for me.” 

He sucks on your lips and dives his tongue inside of your cunt. You moan his name repeatedly, pulling on his long hair. He answers your call with a groan that vibrates against your core. He licks up your slit, catching your nectar on the tip of his tongue. He lifts his mouth for you to see, see how he is still connected to your sex by the thin spider web of arousal. Your fingers fall down the side of his face, pulling him back further, against your better judgment. 

“Please, put it back inside,” you beg. As good as his tongue feels, you crave the fullness his cock provides. Never realizing how truly empty you’d been before he’d honored you so undeservingly with his affection. 

He smiles down at you and grabs your ankles to arrange your legs to lie vertically against his chest. He leans down between your parted legs, as he slides back inside. You sigh in relief, smiling like a fool. His hands find your hardened nipples as he unapologetically drills into you. You moan continuously with each violent thrust.

_He is going to tear me apart. He is going to tear me apart._

You gaze up at him, pleading between moans to have mercy. 

_Have mercy, have mercy on me. I’ve sinned. Oh, have I sinned. May God forgive me... but who is my God? It’s you, isn’t it? My Liar God.._

But he doesn’t let up. Rather, he quickens his pace, leaving your pussy in a sloppy disarray, plummeting toward a needed orgasm. A reward still dangled just beyond your grasp. His mouth is parted, his breathing labored. Your tits bounce painfully, your back sliding back and forth atop the papers that crumple and rip beneath the force of your pleasure. He turns his hand to the side, your calf gently grazing his jaw. His lips make contact with your taut muscle and you can feel his breath against your aroused flesh, like a gentle spring breeze. His hands run up your thighs, urging them further together to enhance your already tight entrance. He lovingly kisses your leg before a moan releases from his watering lips. 

“You feel so good,” he groans. “So fucking perfect. Going to milk my cock as good as that pretty mouth of yours.” 

You reach out, urging him to lean forward so you can wrap your arms around his neck, your legs falling to either side of his body. You clench your thighs tight against him. 

“I wanted you then,” you admit. “When they brought you in. I wanted you.”

His eyes widen ever so slightly as he gazes down at you. His answer comes in the form of his kiss colliding violently with our open mouth. With a force strong enough to bruise, to bleed and mark. But you don’t care, moaning into his mouth as your stomach clenches down, a heat boiling over in your loins. You reach out, finding his hand in the blurred darkness of impending release. Your fingers intertwine. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper in a raspy gasp for air. “You’re gonna make me cum!”

“Do it,” he orders in a murmur, his lips trailing down your jaw, his teeth bared to brush against your skin. He squeezes your hand gently with encouragement. “Cum for me.”

He thrusts harder and you scream, digging your talons into his back, drawing warmth beneath your nails. You twitch, riding the sporadic waves of your release as your pussy throbs with pleasure, a sensation that shoots up your legs, where his free hand rests against you. 

His eyes clench shut and you know he is close. He glides out of you, stroking his cock above you. You press your breasts together, gazing longingly at him as you await the warm shower of his nectar against your skin. It comes mere seconds later with a grunt released from his lips. He paints your body with thick creamy trails of his seed. Some of it makes its home between the valley of your tits, and some, atop your mound. He breathes heavily, in and out, hand still held around his now softening cock. You spread your pussy lips apart for him to see as you gather his release between your fingers and smooth it down between your folds. The warmth it delivers sends you reeling toward a smaller, secondary climax. You bite your lip as you gaze deep into his eyes, thrusting your hips up to give him a show of your lewd activity. 

“Dirty girl,” he coos in approval, smirking down at you. “Lick those fingers clean for me, wont you, darling?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer with a smirk of your own. You lift your fingers to your lips, coated equally with both of your cum, creamy and sleek. You push your fingers into your mouth and moan, for show, as you suck them clean of the residue. You both taste so sweet together, as if your sex together had created a secret concoction. The elixir of life. Of love. 

“Now come here.” He beckons you forward with the crook of his finger, back up into the door. You descend back onto the floor from the now soiled desk, getting onto all fours. You crawl slowly toward him, swerving your ass side to side as you move. Much to his delight as he presses his fingers to his parted lips. His eyes brimming with endless admiration. You stop as soon as your reach his feet, sitting back against your legs. 

He doesn’t even need to speak, to order you to proceed. You already know exactly what he wants. You glide your tongue over the length of his cock, which hardens beneath your touch. 

A God, with the stamina to match. He truly is your ruin... 

 Your tongue gathers all residual cum that has trickled down his length, and your own creamy pleasure left behind. You lick until he is sufficiently clean, gazing up at him for approval. He lets out a primal growl and nods as he urges you to stand. He pulls you toward him by your hips so you are pressed flesh against his chest. Both of your bodies are sleek with perspiration, your breathing still raspy and labored. He kisses the top of your head as his arms wrap around your back. Your head rests against his chest where you can hear his heart racing just beneath your ear. 

“My sweet girl,” he hums against your scalp. “Still planning on handing me over to your Midgardian rulers, so I can receive my punishment?”

“No,” you murmur, lips pressed against his skin as you lazily twirl your fingers around the small curly bits of hair ordaining his chest. You breathe in his sinful aroma with a sigh. A mix of the both of you lingering on his skin.

“No?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. His fingers scoop down underneath your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. “And why is that, love? Aren’t you obedient to them?”

“I’m obedient to you now it would seem,” you purr, taking his hand away to lightly kiss the tips of his fingers, to caress his worn knuckles. 

And when you turn back to look at him, his eyes reveal a tinge of softness, evidence of his heart slowly thawing beneath the stroke of your hand. Of years of neglect melting away with the promise of your tender affection. First taken. Now given. 

You reach up to cradle his face with the curve of your hand and he immediately leans into your touch. His eyes close shut gently. 

“I’m yours, aren’t I?” You ask sweetly, your eyes dazzling with your own brand of mischief. 

“Mine,” he growls in agreement before capturing your face between his hands and kissing you deeply. He tugs on your bottom lip until you moan in delight. “Mine,” he says again as he thrusts between your legs. His stiffened length rubbing up against you.

“Really?” You stutter, laughing lightheartedly. “Again?”

His smile fades, like rainwater carried away against the planes of his cold, cruel face. He reaches behind your head and grabs a fistful of your hair. With the pressure of his other hand on your arm, he forces you to become bent over the desk, kicking your legs apart with his foot. He using the thick roping of your hair as a makeshift reign as he thrusts back into you. Without hesitation. Without the ounce of patience you’d been witness to before. Just cruel, unrelenting fucking as he takes what belongs to him. Your pussy is still sore from previous coupling and you cry out for him to stop, gripping onto the other side of the desk. 

“Yes, again,” he answers in a monstrous growl, accompanied by a deep brutal thrust that leaves your legs as two trembling, useless limbs. You lean in against the desk for support. 

“Again and again and again. Until you beg me for mercy.”


End file.
